


After Party

by russa



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-14 03:50:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21009269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russa/pseuds/russa
Summary: SPOILERS (obviously).I wrote this fic almost a year ago now and had never intended on posting it but got hit with the inspiration bug. It is a 'post' game fic which followed my 'Hell is Empty' fic. It tells you how that fic ended, so keep that in mind.There are some patches missing here and there and it's mostly unedited so I apologize for that. This follows the post game events.





	1. The hole

For once in his long journeys, Charles wasn’t back tracking to bury a deceased comrade.

He’d arrived too late on the scene and now he had to make sure, for himself, that Micah was dead.

Ironically, the moment they were headed up the mountain he’d felt his age and the absolute _stupidity _of their actions. A lot of men just died and frankly, it was a miracle the three of them weren’t lying in the snow themselves.

When that bullet struck his shoulder, he saw Abigail waiting for the family that would never return. Jack growing up without a father. The whole family losing the farm with no one there to tend the debts.

Charles was doing this for himself as much as John was, and he saw now how selfish and foolhardy the whole fiasco was.

But as he stepped over another body and watched the blood pooling dark in the snow, he realized how much Arthur would have hated this. He knew in his heart that the old cowboy was looking on just shaking his head.

He could hear him now:

_‘Now why’d you go and do that, after I put my neck on the line just to get you lot OUT of that mess??’_

Damn, he missed him.

“Ahghh- damn sniper.”

Charles cringed and grabbed at the aching wound that sniper gave him. Bullet went straight through and nothing vital was hit but it hurt like a bitch.

He crunched along with his eyes down away from the bitter cold.

Up ahead he spotted where the final dramatic scene all went down not moments ago. The gun smoke had barely settled and there was still that vibration in the air of an avalanche set off by the cracking shots.

Micah’s body was face first in the snow by the cabin.

Charles crouched by and pushed him over on his back. He didn’t know what he was expecting. He just had to see if there was as much wear and tear on the bastard as there was on the rest of them. Not a second after he’d turned him, a sharp, small noise came from Micah.

Charles jumped upright and had to catch his breath.

“HFF get ahold of yourself, Charles. Just corpse noises.”

He crouched back down to get a better look. There was ice on Micah’s facial hair, eye brows and clothes. His skin was pale with deep darkening around his closed eyes. John had placed one damn good shot right dead center his brow just half an inch above his eyebrows.

“Goodbye, Micah. You will not be missed.” Charles murmured softly to himself.

To his absolute _horror _Micah, very weakly and faintly, uttered another sound.

Charles pulled off his glove and shoved his hand down against the side of the man’s throat.

He gasped the sensation of a faint throb. He leaned over to listen and detected a deep rasping of breath.

“_You’re alive………….God damn_, that’s either a miracle or the shittiest luck ever.”

Either way, it was the most fucked up thing he’d seen all day, and that was saying something.

Charles looked over his shoulder at the cabin and back to Micah. He felt his heart jump again at seeing one blue eye cracked slightly open with that pupil distinctly focused on him. Instinctively, he grabbed his knife and hitched his breath in.

Unnerved to say the least, Charles waved his hand a little.

“You in there?”

Another noise, this time more of a rough grunt and more audible, ragged breathing set up.

Charles shifted in his crouching and looked back and forth. He focused on Micah again.

“You have a hole in your head. And one in your chest somewhere. You make some kinda deal with an unholy demon or something? Wouldn’t surprise me in the least……………………………..look-”

Charles leaned over to be sure he could hear him and spoke in a low growl.

“I’ve got no reason to show mercy if this is how you wanna go. It suits me just fine.”

The rush of wind passed by and Charles braced against it with a shudder.

“But let’s do it _inside_ where _I_ don’t have to freeze my ass off.”

He grabbed Micah with his good arm and drug him across the snow into the cabin. It was disrespectful, but this animal wasn’t deserving of any kind of decency in his book. It did unnerve him a little to hear what he was sure was a death rattle as he pulled him along.

Once inside, Charles closed the cabin up and left Micah on the floor. There were still embers in the stove, so he just added to it.

He expected Micah to pass before he got back around to checking and decided to let him do so quietly. He didn’t want to admit that he needed a break before trekking back down that damned mountain.

Charles settled heavy into a chair and sighed. The stove warmed the place back up in no time.

“What kind of life was this?” He mumbled and shook his head. “I’ve only been up this bullshit trail for a few hours and the pressure is already crushing my skull. Still looking better than yours though- _but the cold….hurts._“

Charles looked over to Micah, whose breathing was getting disturbingly louder the warmer it got.

“What a way to go.”

Wouldn’t be long now.

Micah breathed harder and there were overtones of ragged panicked noises. It started to escalate until Charles could no longer sit here idly. He hurried over and crouched down upon one knee to find Micah had his jaw clenched, eyes closed tight, and brows furrowed.

He checked his heart beat and found it thundering along.

Charles felt his own heart skipping beats and he gasped in confusion. Micah was warmer to the touch, his left hand was shaking, and his color was improving. This was bad news enough, but the long drawn out cry demanded attention.

“Micah! Micah,” He seized hold of his face and patted his chest for attention. “_Listen to me. _You need to _stop _fighting.“

For all his talk of revenge, Charles was using his soft but urgent voice. For all he knew, the man could have no inkling of who or where he was and was probably in insurmountable pain. He was suffering and dammit, Charles hated it for any creature.

Micah looked up at him in tremendous panic. Charles unsheathed his knife and made to jam it into his chest to finish the job for good.

“NNRrhhNOOOOO!!”

Micah screamed this and swung his arm haphazardly at last. He must have been trying to for a while now.

Charles caught the appendage in shock. It continued to shake in his clutch as he stared wide eyed down at Micah. Words were starting to form on the outlaw’s face. His expression was contorted into one of fear and fight.

“What exactly are you gonna do?” Charles mused softly. He wished he wasn’t in this position.

Micah’s free arm was shaking but he couldn’t seem to move it.

“Dd-..s-shot me-“

Charles held onto the arm as he listened.

“Dutch shot you,” He confirmed. “He didn’t even look back when he left.”

Micah stared wide eyed up at him.

“It figures, right? You got so many of us killed. Bought your own freedom at the cost of their lives. All of us, that made it, wanted to take you out personally. And who gets the big finish? Goddamn Dutch……..fh…the bastard.”

Micah cringed hard and very shakily raised his arm. Just enough to give Charles the middle finger.

Charles smiled thinly and let go of the arm.

“Guy gets shot in the head and lives. Maybe no one finishes you off but you…….…..”

He stood up and walked off.

“We got the gold. The future. We really started something special all together. You won’t get to take that away, Micah. And whatever’s waiting for any of us on the other side, I envy you least of all.”

Micah heaved breath after breath through his teeth and followed Charles with his eyes.

Charles walked about the cabin to investigate. Drugs, scattered paper, weapons, supplies.

He returned to Micah and loomed over him with a frown.

“Your pistol. I’m leaving it on the floor just a few feet away.”

Charles crouched down again, showed him the revolver and then showed him where he was setting it. Micah shivered and coughed as he watched.

“Now, hoping third time is the charm and you reach this. You do the honors. Or don’t. You’ll die when that stove goes cold…………..or when your lungs finally give up…maybe when you seize later from brain damage-”

Micah’s eyes widened again at Charles. He swung his arm again towards the gun and the limb just dropped back to the floor.

“You got the idea.”

With a sour feeling in his gut, Charles headed for the door. He’d no sooner put his hand on the latch when Micah screamed out again.

With a heavy sigh, the man made his way back to frown down at the outlaw.

“I-aahh.a..a………….ah…ain’t-“ Micah struggled on each word, stuttering every other syllable. “_G-gonna die._ I a…ain’t gonna die- I d-ddon’t..even….._ffffeel it._“

Charles wasn’t squeamish by any means, but that perfect hole in Micah’s skull was making him sick.

Out of morbid curiosity, Charles rummaged along these layers of clothes to check the chest wound. He ripped at the bottom layer in search of blood and spotted peppered black, purple and blue bruising all over the man’s chest.

His brows furrowed, and he pulled open his collar. Micah groaned loudly with a higher pitched, frantic whine at the end. His chest rose and fell faster.

Charles leered for a moment at the near perfect shape of hands in old bruising across Micah’s throat and collarbone. Perfect tooth impressions were pressed into his neck.

“Hmm.”

He worked his way back down and had to push aside more and more layers until he found a big ugly bruise. Hell of a lot of luck, or Dutch was using a weapon he hadn’t cleaned, tended or taken apart in ages. Dutch never seemed the type to let his weapon waste away. Then a canteen dropped from the inside the man’s coat.  
  
Oh, that’s where the bullet was.

Charles mulled it over. His eyes traced the heavy abuse marks instead as Micah’s flesh shivered under the gaze.

“Micah, I _hate_ to say this, but you just might make it.” Charles gave him a wry look.

“I don’t know much about traumatic head wounds, but there was this old soldier in the war……head shot just like this and he walked. Lived a full life. Hmn. Couldn’t sleep for the rest of it though.”

Micah sputtered curses right and left at the taunting. His chest shook and wavered up and down.

“Ffffuf-f..ffuckkkkk……..yy-y……..y-ouuuu.“

Charles rubbed at his own shoulder and braced a second. His eyes followed the line of bruising down to Micah’s pelvis where burn pock marks began just above his pants line. 

“_Damn. _Tell me you deserved this.”

Micah laughed in a choked, dismayed kind of way.

“Yyy-eea.”

Charles covered him up and wished he hadn’t investigated. He had to clear his throat and shake his shoulder to dispel it.

“Of course you did. Mph….Who did this you then?”

Micah raised just his forefinger whilst the rest of his hand quivered on the ground. It took a second to form the name, but he focused as intensely as possible on Charles to see his reaction.

“S……..d..Dd-………………….dutch.”

Charles’ brows raised. He cringed in distaste.

“And you _let him_?”

Micah closed his lips firmly and squeezed his eyes shut. It clearly took every ounce of his will to raise his fore arm off the floor in order to point his finger at Charles. He opened his eyes and shook the whole time he spoke.

“….I’-I’m not……..I’m nn-not…sss-sorry.”

Charles shrugged in lack of concern. He focused instead on bandaging up that gruesome gaping hole on Micah’s head. He cleaned it up, packed the area with gauze and looked for an exit wound.

Micah looked more alert after awhile but still couldn’t move.

“What……ah..eexactly are you _doing?_” He wanted to know.

Charles lifted his head to wrap yet another coil of bandaging.

“Don’t want any bugs to crawl in your brain, do we?”

Micah shuddered heavily.

When he finished, Charles made some tea on the stove. Things got very quiet save the whistling of the old kettle. The gravely wounded outlaw was visibly exhausted, and Charles sat down to watch him drift to sleep knowing he may not awaken again.

There were scrawled writings on some crumpled papers nearby and he collected them to pass the time. The others would be worried about where he went, but he felt compelled to wait this out.

Micah awoke an hour later in a complete panic.

_“WH What what’s happening what’s happening whw-w-h!?“_

Charles looked up from the paper work with an idle noise.

“You’re dead, Micah. This is the after-life.”

Micah hyperventilated and groaned.

“_NNNRFFOh real…..rr-real funny! _F-for a second…there…I thought this was all one of them……horrible dreamssss._”_

Charles had turned over all the pages and was recounting what had happened in his own words.

He listened to the outlaw panting and struggling for a few minutes.

“How are you feeling?”

Micah laughed. It sounded more like a sob than a laugh though.

“I can’t………………..uhhhhhh………….m-_move._”

Charles looked up.

“You sound better. More lucid.”

_“Why am I……………a-alive, redskin? _Yo…you …………you getting your rocks off to this?”

“I just want to know the whole story.”

Micah coughed and very loudly cleared something from his throat.

“_Why?”_

Charles moved the chair over next to Micah and repositioned the papers on his lap, using a hardcover book to set them on. He wanted the man to be able to see him and to have full visual of his face as he spoke. Those two, bloodshot blue eyes stared up at him.

“I never asked your side of it. I want to know.”

Micah swallowed and leered.

_“Whyyyyy?”_

They stared at one another for a long moment. Charles sighed and leaned back. The cabin walls were creaking, and the weight of the snow seemed to bear down on everything. The pressure made him feel dizzy and he rubbed at his eyelids for relief.

“What……………..what did you _need _to know?” Micah finally hissed.

Charles leaned forward again.

“You tell me…….The bites and bruises seems like a good enough place to start.”

Micah drew his lips into a thin line and looked sidelong at Charles.

“Punishment,” He explained with a very slight nod. He was panting somewhat. “For b-being _weak.hahah….and mean and brokennnnnnn. Petty torture is just part of the game now, I suppose eghhghh hghrughk.”_

Charles sighed through his nose.

“Oh, I don’t doubt you were right there prodding the bull.”

Micah coughed and wheezed. He was getting visibly wound up but had no way of expressing the stressful energy.

_“What do you wanna hearrrr, Smith!? _I did it?? Everyone wants to hear that….everyone wants _j-justice. All them friends and family we lost………hghkkkkkkk…’cause of me!”_

Charles leaned over in the chair so that loose tendrils of his dark hair dropped down towards Micah. When he spoke, his voice was dark but dripping with a dangerous patience.

“That’s right. You tell me what happened with the Pinkertons. Did they offer you money, torture you, drug you? What made you give us up? Why did Dutch believe you over Arthur? It doesn’t make sense.“

As he spoke, Micah had this far away look in his eyes.

He didn’t respond at first.

“Which version of it then, redskin….is gonna be…….._satisfactory?_”

Charles scribbled something on the paper. He looked stoic but beneath the surface his heart was pounding away. Sometimes he’d get so lost in the soul crushing mental image of Arthur dying on that mountain that he’d be blinded by the rage.

Before he could stop himself, he asked the question he really wanted an answer for.

“Micah. Was he alone, in the end?”

Micah’s eyes widened, and he swallowed with another one of those frustrating ‘mmrrnnnnmmmm’ growls.

“_A….aren’t we all?”_

Charles grit his teeth and held his breath. It took incredible willpower to stand up, to scoot back the chair and to join the outlaw on the floor of the old cabin. He sat down with his legs crossed beside him and put a heavy, warm hand on his brow.

Micah looked up in a sudden burst of dismay and blinked repeatedly. This simple action seemed to unnerve him tremendously, as it probably would anyone with a hole in their skull.

“_Dutch and I……_Got there. Old Arthur ‘n me got into it. _ I beat the living hell out of him and he beat the living hell out of me_. Really ugly mess…………………….Dutch _stepped in……We all parted our separate ways after. Don’t think he ever got up from that spot again._”

Charles eyes went dark and hazy. Micah breathed audibly in short, stressed spouts.

“I loved Arthur, you know?” Charles’ voice dripped with sadness as he nodded. He let the sorrow and the weight of these past years really bleed through and out of the strong persona he usually showed. He continued.

“And I didn’t even _realize _how much……….it was going to hurt when he was gone. How much I needed him.”

Micah trembled and closed his eyes tight.

“Hhh…that’s just…realllll ss-s-s-sweet of you, Charles,” He droned on in strained tones that became louder and more frantic by the second. “HGKHHH T-thank the stars above, you get to have this _special _time making sure I _pay _for giving the boy TB and slaughtering the whole LOT of em with my BARE hands!”

Charles put a hand over his mouth to shut him up. Micah stiffened and gripped onto his pants leg.

“I know you’re scared,” Charles expressed in an understanding voice.

“You really loved Dutch this whole time, right?”

He raised his eyebrows and waited for Micah to visibly calm down before letting him speak again.

Micah panted, furrowed his brows and sneered.

“_No_…………………………..I hated every last one of you and _Dutch most_ of all. Nothing but guns…and money..for me, darling.”

Charles glowered.

“You sound pathetic.”

Micah surprised him by laughing.

“_I am pathetic._”

Charles was ready to give up on the interrogation when he heard the slightest shuffle from outside. Micah, despite his state, heard it too and they both went rigid.

“Who’s that? Expecting someone back?”

Keeping low and quiet, Charles crept across the floor and peeked through a crack in the wall. There was someone out there who alarmingly appeared to be detectives shuffling about in the snow. Charles flipped away from the spot and moved to a better vantage point. He damned himself for not getting out of here when he had the chance!!

_“What is it?” _ Micah half choked.

Charles stopped by him and pressed the revolver into the outlaw’s weak hand.

“Two men. Cops. You sure you didn’t rat on this place, too?”

“_Hah hah. So funny………………………………………..……….._I have an idea. U-up in the loft. There’s a rifle. Now take this bandage off._”_


	2. Not the end of things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: The detectives here are not Ross and Milton

Several minutes later, the detectives worked open the door and walked inside. They were rambling back and forth to one another and clearly didn’t expect anyone to still be alive. Upon spotting Micah on the floor here, they stopped with an exclamation.

“DAMN. If it isn’t………..Micah fucking Bell…………..”

Micah didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

“That’s him?”

“Oh yeah. Someone seriously wanted to make sure the bastard was dead. “ The older of the two gave Micah a nudge in the face with his boot.

“Hold on. These are drag marks here on the floor. He didn’t pull himself in here.”

There came the click of their weapons.

Micah picked the perfect moment to laugh out. The two men jumped nearly out of their skin and both flipped to point their guns down.

“HOLY SHIT. He’s alive! What the fuck?”

“Mr. Bell????? Hell of a thing, being alive with that head wound………..Who made this mess here??”

Micah heaved and chuckled agonizingly.

“HRNKkkk ohhh you know how it is, boyssssssss. S-ss..somebody takes my goddamn _toast_ one tt-oo many timesss-“

The detectives looked at each other and back down. It wasn’t every day you saw someone with a bullet wound between the eyes just talking and carrying on.

“_Just _tell us who did the killing here, Bell. We’ll track them down and bring them in.”

Micah’s arm was leaden as he tried to raise the gun. One of the men easily stopped him by just stepping on the barrel. The urgency between the two lessened and they breathed a joined sigh of relief.

“Trust me Bell. You aren’t walking out of here with a hole in your head. Just tell us what you know. You get to decide if you die easy……………………or if we drag you right back outside for the crows.”

The other man stopped by his feet to put his two cents in.

“Oh yeah. Birds will have a real hay day pickin brains out of that thing.”

_BAM. POP._

Charles took out the one pinning Micah with a head shot and put the other down with a chest wound. The wounded detective hit the ground with a scream and thrashed.

POP.

Micah only had to angle his hand to finish off the second.

Charles hopped down and peeked through the doorway and listened for more agents who were surely close behind. These two couldn’t have come up here all on their own, right?

“Stilllll wanna make a_ connection _here, _Chuck!? I-it’s been ahhahah therapeutic.” _Micah spurned with a series of scattered chuckles.

“Shut up.”

Charles scoped out the camp for a few cold moments and returned to collect Micah.

“We gotta get out of here.”

Micah’s blue eyes were livid. “_WE? I ain’t going nowhereeeeee, papa bear.”_

Charles grabbed the bandages and roughly sealed him up again. Micah groaned in fury and his gun hand started shaking with clear indication he was trying to shoot Charles too.

“Cut it out.”

Charles took the weapon and hoisted Micah up off the floor. The wounded outlaw screamed holy murder as every stiff muscle was forcibly moved and his head dropped forward against Charles.

“AGHGHGKKK _I ain’t gonna make it off this mountain!!”_

“Probably not,” Charles was urgent in carrying him out. “But I’m not DONE with you yet.”

His shoulder was hurting like hell, but he forced through with Micah over one shoulder and hoisted himself onto the horse, nonetheless. It was a feat to pull off. He may as well have been lifting a dead body.

“N-not up for………_traveling _at this aghhhhhhhhh……..moment, Smith!!”

“Keep talking. Let’s me know your brain hasn’t all leaked out yet.”

Charles settled into the saddle and put Micah in front against his chest.

“Have to tie you in. Don’t die just yet.”

Micah groaned excessively and didn’t stop. All the shaking around was making him see sideways, backwards and in contrast colors. He made damn sure everyone knew about it, too.

Charles asked himself what the hell he was doing. There were reckless decisions made in the spur of the moment and this day already had too many as it was.

He half expected the bandit to just die half way down the trail. The rattling of the horse, the rough movements and the cold could only be escalating the issues and increasing his suffering.

Micah voiced this readily.

When they reached the basin of the mountain path, Charles was convinced the worst had passed. Micah was still screaming out every other moment and drawing out these agonized moans.

“JUST kill me already, Smith!! _Goddammitt!! AGHHHh!”_

“Oh son of a FUCK I’m gonna be sick-“

“HUGHHHHH Ohhhhhghhhhh I feel it now. Hhuhhhghhhhh can’t breatheee.”

Charles stopped just for a break when he spotted more grass than snow. Micah’s rambling had reached a delirium point where he was simply sobbing, and it was growing increasingly disturbing. And annoying.

Charles panted as he looked over the ridge into the valleys below. He hoped to spot the gentle rise of smoke somewhere in the distance.

“Hey? What is it???” He tapped the outlaw, who sobbed a little harder in this slumped state back against him.

“Augghhhhhhh, IIIIIII c-can’ttttt mo-moveeeeeeeeee.” Micah’s voice cracked.

Charles furrowed his brows and checked to make sure he didn’t have frost bite attributing to this wailing.

“I h-h-h-h-haveee to pi-p-pissssssssss.”

Oh.

That made sense. Great.

“Can it wait?”

Micah shuddered another sob that was a clear enough answer.

Charles grabbed the jar off his saddle bag and made some adjustments. He sighed through his nose as he positioned everything just right through disparaged snarling from the man.

_“I c-can’t do it HERE……………with your HANDS on itttt!!”_

Charles sighed and held onto him.

“Go.”

Micah sputtered hopelessly and gave up. He clearly couldn’t stop his body from just doing it anyway.

“Hurgghhhh ww-heeen do I get to say ee-e-enough is _enough_, redskin!? _I’m done._”

Charles tossed the contents of the jar off the side of the horse and fixed Micah up.

“Done living or done pissing?”

Micah groaned.

Charles bundled the man up much tighter around the shoulders and head with hopes that it would muffle all the fussing somewhat. Maybe even suffocate him a little. Humorously, it seemed to work wonders and the second half of the trip was much quieter.

He stopped late in the day in the green valleys he’d spotted earlier. This was good enough country but still too cold. Micah was considerably delirious by this point and easy enough to manipulate. The biggest problem being that Charles’ shoulder was killing him and he didn’t have much strength.

“Dutch _really_ put some years on you,” Charles mumbled to himself. He couldn’t believe how pale Micah’s hair was now. It hadn’t been _that long. _Perfect proof that it was the quality of the years that aged a man.

The night carried on for ages. He watched Micah sleep a good portion of it away. The shoulder really hurt now, and Charles was anxious to keep moving to find his companions.

Micah woke up in the AM hours. Charles did some wordless tending of the head wound, medicated him and made him drink something. Then he rested across the fire from him in silence for a half hour.

“Does that hurt?” He finally asked with a tap to his own forehead.

Micah grunted. He looked miserable illuminated by the warm orange glow from the fire.

“Trying to……………shake my _head _but seeing as I’m an _invalid._”

“You never liked moving very much anyway.”

“…………Hahh…..hahh……I don’t remember you _having _a sense of humor.”

Silence again. Wolves were howling in the distance and Charles wondered if they were desecrating the mountain scene. Micah should be nothing more than wolf chow at this point.

In the earliest hours of dawn, he set off again with Micah in tow. He went over what he was going to say should the man survive the trip or if he did come across his friends.

After bundling up Micah tightly once more, Charles chuckled. The drapery and wrapping made him look like a particularly bitter old man. Micah leered, clearly not appreciating being demeaned further.

They set off at a slow pace and took all the back trails to speed up progress.

Whether it was the extreme discomfort of moving or Charles’ silence, Micah started talking. There were enough years behind them that it seemed asinine to keep it all in.

“Dutch was the _first person _I ever cared about more than myself. _Yepp._ It didn’t come on right away though. Took months…monthsss….and by the time it did come along, well………………………_you know _how the story goes.”

Charles didn’t make a single remark or retort but tugged the scarf down to hear him better. It was hard enough with all the grumbling and interjections the bastard put in his speech without this muffling it further.

“Always pissed me off how easy it was for the whole lot. Hhhehhhh…..Dutch talked about _lovee _like it was _real._ Thought the rest of you were a lot of fools for buying into ‘the dream’_……………hsfh……………..”_

Charles had to agree.

They came to a cross roads and he headed west. Micah stiffened all over just once before going limp again.

“Dutch was a little more like you than us.”

Micah hissed in an exasperated way.

“_I knew that……….._He showed it to _me. _Made me feel…hahah……………………………._real special.”_

Charles made a short stop behind a carriage and braced his arm over Micah to keep him from dropping forward.

“He played all of us to the tune we would dance to. I don’t know if there ever was a ‘real’ Dutch.”

-


	3. Meet up

At a campsite, five miles from there, John was boiling some coffee over the camp fire while Sadie slept in very, very late. He was very fretting about where Charles had disappeared to and hoping the man would turn up soon.

The night had been rough with Sadie’s wound, but it was clear yesterday that she was going to make it. The tear was shallow so that a rib took most of the blow. The bone had cracked and splintered which was causing her agonizing pain.

At least she was alive. At least they were all alive!

He wasn’t a religious man, but damn if it didn’t feel like _someone _was looking out for their stupid asses up in the mountain. He took account of it in Arthur’s journal while the whole event was fresh on his mind.

Poor Sadie. He could hear her groaning loudly as she stirred.

“Fuck, I sure hope Charles is okay.”

They were all family to him and he wasn’t sure he could bear coming home without the man. Sadie was cringing and wincing as she joined him by the fire. It was well passed noon and they were both dragging their feet for the same reason.

“Can I get you another morphine shot, boss?” John jested over coffee.

“HRnhGH, Ohhh nooo……….I don’t need any more fucking winged bears dancing around my head, thank you.”

Sadie had NOT had a nice trip yesterday.

They were both feeling better after breakfast; but kept watching the horizon from their cliff peak. John took a deep breath of fret and paced a little.

“If I know Charles Smith, he’ll follow our trail right here. And show up like we was fools for waiting around.”

Sadie snorted at him. “Oh, an’ lecture us, too.” She laid back on the ground and gestured for the sky in a mock ‘Charles’ voice. “We agreedddd to keep moving for a _reason._”

“Well, we did.”

The sound of Charles’ voice and his sudden presence shocked them so much that John dropped his coffee and Sadie jumped up. They both had their guns aimed in a split second. Charles appeared by the mouth of the campsite, on foot, with both hands up.

“Charles!! You goddamn beautiful bastard!”

John dashed over to grab hold of his arm in delight.

Sadie moaned and groaned but was smiling the whole time.

“Here John thought a wolf mighta got you.”

Charles laughed lowly to himself.

“Kinda.”

“Where’s your horse?” John looked around Charles and spotted the mare hanging far back.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Charles motioned John back towards the camp fire and watched concern pop up on both their faces. It must have been the tone in his voice that prompted it. He decided it was best to get this right out into the open.

“I got back to the campsite.”

He waited for acknowledgement that they were paying full attention. Charles took a deep breath.

“Micah was still alive.”

“WHAT!? NO, I shot him!”  
“YOU GOTTA BE SHITTING ME.”

Both exclamations fell over one another and kept right on going.

“JOHN Shot him in the goddamn head.”

“RIGHT between the eeyes, Charles!! RIGHT DEAD between the eyes- Nobody survives that! Less hes some kinda….MONSTER or somethin’.“

Charles threw up his arms and nodded in understanding.

“I am not _shitting _anyone. I was just as surprised as you.”

Sadie stood up completely and had this cagey look about her eyes. She’d already figured out what Charles had done. John, on the other hand, couldn’t get past the mental imagery of that blow hitting Micah replaying again in his head.

“_Where is he?” _Sadie barked.

John looked at her like she was out of her mind. Obviously, Micah was dead NOW if he wasn’t when Charles got there.

Charles closed his eyes and inhaled. With his body language he angled himself back down the trail.

Sadie’s nostrils flared, and that mad spark flashed into her eyes. John was still clueless.

“Nahhhh he’s dead. He’s gotta be………right, Charles? Wasn’t dead when you _got _there, but-“

Charles was already heading after Sadie, who was stomping her way down the path. She spotted Micah set against the base of a nearby oak tree and gasped hard enough to nearly knock herself out. Micah already had a classic snarl coiled on his features the second he spotted her and the other two weren’t far behind. He was still pretty bundled

“_Mrs Adler…………………..Mr Marston.”_

John gawped and half stumbled down the trail to point.

“I SHOT YOU. IN THE. FACE.”

“Yeeupp.”

Micah glowered up at them. Sadie had this ‘formulating’ expression of shock, acceptance and arousal all at once. BLOOD lust, no doubt.

She turned to Charles.

“What’s the matter with em? Not doing much moving.”

Charles shook his head. “Paralyzed, it seems.”

Sadie laughed suddenly and then she laughed again in a far darker, excited way. For full emphasis of her sadistic glee, she braced the pain and crouched down before Micah.

“OHhohho…ohhhhhhhhhhhhh hohohohoh that is _real rich. _This might just be my _birthday _right now!! We are gonna have some _fun together, _Micah.”

John was still pissed he wasn’t dead.

“Right. In the face.”

Micah could clearly see what was in store for him. He was breathing that much harder and glowered up at Charles with resentment.

“Bullet musta been as _dumb_ as you are. Lookie. I ain’t here to _play, _boys and girls. The ‘native’s’ got something in mind. He didn’t bind me up and tow me all the way down that mountain just so’s the two of you could pick me apart.”

Charles wasn’t jumping to his defense.

Sadie blocked Micah’s line of vision and leaned in desperately close to his face. There was a cringe of pain on her features, but her hastened breaths were due largely to stimulation. Micah scrunched his nose and pinched one eye closed at her.

“You thought I didn’t remember what happened to my farm. _Who started that fire. _I remember, Micah. And all this time I been practicing how to hurt a man..how to really hurt em. All so I can use it on you.”

“Sadie.” Charles finally interjected. “You need to rest that side.”

The wildness in her eyes faded for a second at the reminder of the pain her body was in.

Micah had been bracing the entire time. He finally broke a nervous laugh.

“I seen a lot of things since last we met. _Can’t do a thing to me hasn’t been done already._”

John shuffled back with a head scratch and looked to Charles.

“I say we let Sadie eat him.”

Sadie looked at Micah and patted a hand hard down on his chest to make him cringe.

“Hunfh. I don’t eat trash.”

Deciding she hurt too much to enact revenge now, she backed off. Charles moved in to make sure the chest wound wasn’t bleeding again. He patted the bandaging down and the three of them headed back to the camp where they could talk without Micah.

John clearly hated everything about this as he packed his bags.

“What are we gonna DO with him, Charles?

Sadie had already made up her mind. “We’ll make him tell us about the betrayal and then we kill him. Right this time.”

“Hey, I _shot _him just right. Doesn’t even feel fair.”

Charles sighed as he helped roll up the tent. “We already know he sold us out. What’s done is done. We got our revenge on that mountain up there.”

Sadie scoffed and winced. “Maybe John did and…maybe YOU did, but I ain’t got mine yet. Not done with that damned bastard.”

Charles tossed the roll up on his shoulder. “The state he’s in is torture enough. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I know now that we _never _should have been up on that mountain.”

Sadie just scoffed loudly and muttered something. John looked up at him with a deep frown.

“Abigail IS NOT gonna like this. She’s prolly gonna beat us all!”

Charles tied the roll onto John’s horse and paused to wince at his own wound.

“She _did _beg you not to kill him.” He pointed out.

“Ain’t mean she wants us dragging him in the house like a godforsaken lost dog!! NO. I do NOT want that guy near my farm!”

They wrapped up and Charles tried to close the conversation for now.

“Chances are, he won’t survive the trip. We can talk more when we cross the river.”

-

They’d left Micah alone for all of fifteen minutes, but it was fifteen minutes sitting on the forest floor. It didn’t take more than two for something to realize he was there and didn’t seem to be moving.

A slight looking red fox wasn’t getting the message. He snarled at it, ‘barked’ at it and for all his vocalizations the animal was still stealing his boot. He hadn’t felt frustration like this in months and his temper was rapidly devolving into abject humiliation.

“_Get the FUCK outta here! RARHG!_”

The animal bounced away but came right back to work the boot off and drug it away like it had accomplished something.

What misery that he couldn’t even take on a ten-pound foe!!

He was much more distressed when the thing returned now that his foot was bootless. He shook the foot back and forth which was just about all he COULD do. The small canid crept forward with its mouth open.

“NO YOU DON’T. Get _lost, you orange bastard!_” His chest rose and fell rapidly as he tried moving his arms to shoo it.

Micah was practically hyperventilating by the time it got its teeth about his toes. Even with the sock it was biting through skin and the anxiety finally jump started the limb enough for him to kick weakly.

As it rounded back to try again, a well-placed rock popped it in the head. Charles noticed the predicament on his way back and came to the rescue.

“Fucking thing took my BOOT!” Micah hissed. His voice cracked.

“That’s what you get for wearing snake skin. I feel bad for the fox…….you probably would have made a good meal.”

Charles motioned for John down the path to help him get Micah back on the horse. He hopped up first, and John fussed over having to touch the bastard in order to accomplish the task.

“Better not give me any FLEAS, is all!”

Micah groaned but was still too shaken to retort very much. Not standing a chance against a small animal was a horrific reminder of how helpless he really was.

Contemplation of the short and agonizing future ahead of him preoccupied Micah for the rest of the day. Charles tapped him to make sure he was still alive several times due to the silence.

John and Sadie were distracting themselves from the discomfort of being in his presence by joking incessantly back and forth to one another.

“How do you think a paralyzed man takes a shit?”

“I dunno, John! Prolly just all over himself hk….helpless as a newborn infant!”

“That isss _disgusting_! If I ever get like a vegetable, you guys gotta promise to just put me outta my misery!”

“_Someone _will have to feed and change him and it AIN’T gonna be me,” Sadie continued mercilessly.

John guffawed.

“Jesus Christ. I say we leave him to the animals.”

Micah, who was still forcibly tied to Charles, seethed something under his breath.

“For once, I’m in _agreement,” _He panted open mouthed and audibly. “C-can’tcha be bothered to put another in me, S-ss-mith?? I’ll _beg real nicely. Whatever gets you stiff.”_

Charles leaned to threaten close to his ear.

“Keep talking like that and I let Sadie have you.”

“No one deserves to be a USELESS sentient hunk of meat.” John expressed loudly from his horse as they all trotted along.

“Cept Micah,” Sadie interjected.

John laughed.

“Can’t argue with you there!”

By the time they made camp in the late evening, the duo was slowly running out of crude jests. Micah utterly refused to express he needed to piss at the end of the trip. He was starving, battered, exhausted and fed up with the ‘merry crew’.


	4. Not quite a new world

By the time they made camp in the late evening, the duo was slowly running out of crude jests. Micah utterly refused to express he needed to piss at the end of the trip. He was starving, battered, exhausted and fed up with the ‘merry crew’.

They all settled down and took turns guarding while John cooked up a meal for them. Their unwitting company refused all food and water which was a decision no one argued with.

Sadie tried to ignore her wound by contemplating what they could all wear to the wedding. Mostly, they were all to sore and tired to communicate and passed out in their own bedrolls very quickly.

Charles offered food and water to Micah again when the others were asleep.

“I’m plenty fine with _dying_ this time, _thanks_.” The man mumbled to him.

Charles looked impatient.

“If that were true, you’d be dead already.”

Rather than argue the point, he set the food and water down right next to Micah and returned to guarding.

The battered outlaw took a deep breath as he regarded the offering next to him. It ended up taking him most of the night just to work his left hand. He’d used it to fire the revolver but for some reason picking up a piece of fish was much more complicated.

Charles had laid him on his back on top of it. The food was right next to his head, but it may as well have been on the moon.

By the time he got one piece between his fingers, he was almost in tears from frustration. No matter how intense his concentration was on his left arm, it was his right arm that was contracting.

His frustrated hissing, grunting and mumbling must have been too loud because half way through it he noticed John just idly watching him.

“Hhhshfh……._real amusing, ain’t it?” _Micah half whispered to avoid waking the other two.

John yawned.

“I don’t feel _sorry _for you, if that’s what you mean.”

Micah mustered up every force in his body to lift the handful of fish just enough that when he dropped it, the limb it fell on his face. Sure, he hit himself in the process, but he got the food and that’s what counted.

John walked over to get a better look. He had his rifle at the ready in the event of any trouble.

“You want me to _kill you,_ quiet like? I prolly could do it without waking anybody. With uhhh…the bed roll or somethin’.”

Micah hissed as he struggled with the cup of water. This was a fool’s errand.

“_Don’t _do me any favors, Marston.” His hand was shaking whilst he tried to hold the cup. He was trying with all his might to angle his body up just enough to accomplish drinking something.

John nodded with one of his ‘uh huh’ faces.

“Let me help you with that.”

He crouched, took the cup off Micah and proceeded to pour the contents all over the man’s face.

Micah cringed and glared up at him with his features now wet. “Hmmmmmm. Very ‘_helpful’._”

John sighed to himself.

“You know. Looking at your _face _makes me want to _vomit, cry _and shoot myself all at the same time, but I think it could be ‘fun’..you sticking around awhile.”

Micah finally shifted his head to the right, so he wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Right. Well. _Enjoy it while I last.” _

Morning came soon enough and again, they were off with renewed energy. The air was getting warm and dryer with each passing hour with the promise of the desert and home. Micah braced against the heat. He was still stuck riding in front of Charles.

“Haven’t been out thissa way in……………five years now.”

He was roasting and sweating from the major shift in climates.

Sadie and John had been silent for the past half hour now that they were in the final stretch. They all just wanted to get to the house as soon as possible. The horses knew it, too, and were really kicking up dust.

Micah panted audibly.

They stopped on a high rise, over the ranch, and John made an exclamation.

“Ohh, home sweet home! Let’s go!”

Micah cracked one eye open to get a look at it. His vision was blurry but the whole place was a lot more solid than he expected.

“_Ww-well, _I’ll be damned.”

Charles gestured to the others.

“I’ll get _him _to the barn and meet you at the house. Something tells me we need to warn Abigail in advance.”

John groaned loudly. “Can we warn her _never?”_

The group diverged, and Charles headed into the back of the barn with Micah in tow. He was unloading himself off the horse when his passenger went completely limp. He caught him and quickly moved to the ground beneath the individual stable units.

“Micah?”

Micah was panting hard and seemed delirious. His eyes were closed; his face was far too hot and dry.

“Y-uss? U-uhh huh, thereee he issss.”

Charles cursed and started stripping layers off the man in a slight frenzy. In such a weak state, it was no wonder he’d been pushed over into shock from this.

“Can’t believe you made me drag your ass all the way down here, just to _die _on me the second we arrived.”

Having stripped him down to his trousers only, Charles hoisted him up in search of water.

“C’mon, you son of a bitch.”

Charles looked left and right before spotting the watering trough.

Dammit, if the heat didn’t kill him then whatever was floating around in there would.

“Ughhhh, fuckin Micah.”

So much for being covert.

......................

Abigail, Jack and Uncle were in a blissful reunion inside the house. Abigail was right in the middle of lamenting the horrible wound Sadie had collected when Charles came bursting through the front door.

John popped off the couch and nearly toppled Jack over.

“Charles, what the hell!?”

Everyone stood up.

Abigail got one good look at who the man was towing along before he disappeared right down the hall.

Her jaw dropped. She inhaled hard and looked like she might scream.

“Is that goddamned Micah Bell!?!?”

Abigail flipped to Sadie and John in horror.

“ERRR, he’s just _about dead.” _John started.

_“Just about!?”_

Sadie hadn’t moved from her spot on the chair. She took a swig of cool whiskey.

Charles didn’t have time to explain at the current moment. He was counting on the bath being full of fresh, cool water from the well.

Amidst the chaos came a healthy splash sound. Abigail stormed off down the hall and John tailed her with a myriad of explanations all at once.

“Woman! I can explain!!.................HSFF…………………..It’s all Charles’ fault!!”

Micah was jolted out of over heating the second his body was dropped into the water. He inhaled air forcefully as if he’d been drowning and cried out at the secondary shock. He mouthed ‘what the fuck?’ over and over.

“There he is.” Charles clapped a hand over his face.

Abigail stopped rigidly in the doorway with an affronted sound. Her eyes were round as discs.

John stopped next to her with a loud groan of exasperation.

“What happened to takin’ this slow, Charles?”

“He was overheating.”

Micah was slumped against the back of the tub and nearly full submerged in cool water. He looked confused as hell and pissed to boot.

“Hhheyyy, what’s with all the _yelling?”_

Abigail turned and hit John across the shoulder before stomping off down the hall with lamentations about choosing to marry such an idiot.

It wasn’t a solid start to their ‘new world’, but it would have to do for now. They were all too happy to be back together to stay furious with one another. Micah slipped into the background for the time being as they celebrated the safe return and excess wealth.

As enraged and bewildered as poor Abigail was, it was hard to be mad when John opened that bag of gold bars.

They laughed, sang, drank and danced the rest of the day away.

Micah stayed tucked upstairs in the attic, on an extra mattress, where he couldn’t ruin the whole event.


	5. Celebrating the Newlyweds

The following week was extremely strange for all involved in the very busy household. John and Abigail were preparing for a wedding that everyone wanted a hand in. Sadie was staying half high to cope with her injury where as Uncle and Jack kept up the farm work.

Charles had his hands full with Micah. This wasn’t exactly something he could ask for help with.

It was a tricky situation. Micah wasn’t cooperating, the rest of the family wanted him dead, gone or worse and Jack was obviously disturbed by the whole thing.

The near unanimous call was to kill him away from the farmstead at a scheduled date four months out. _If _he survived that long. This would give the man time to make peace with whatever unholy thing he called his maker.

Charles agreed to tell him the date after the wedding.

He didn’t expect him to last long enough.

The rest of the work was all about routine, changing bandages and coaxing him to work with him. Charles only tried _to an extent _to reason with him and if Micah refused, he left him to his own devices.

This inevitably meant the outlaw wound up on the floor many times in a desperate struggle to fulfill his own needs.

It wasn’t until he pissed himself by accident that he stopped fighting Charles altogether. It wasn’t worth resisting help if it meant deeper degradation later.

He used to be a ruthless killer and heartless slayer of men, women and children alike. Not even a month ago, he was one of the fastest gunslingers still left in the world. He wasn’t taking the transition _well, _to say the least.

By the end of the week, the wedding plans were ready, and Charles had hoisted at least a fraction of the ‘Micah Duty’ off to Uncle. Uncle was a great candidate for bringing the man food, water and keeping him company.

The ‘side effects’ of giving Uncle this job came in loud, roaring rage fits from Micah that could be heard anywhere in the house. It could be debated that this was a perk, however.

On a fine sunny morning the following week, Abigail and John’s wedding took place on the front lawn. The ceremony was a beautiful reminder of all they had achieved together and their combined hopes for a better life.

Micah was, obviously, not invited.

He took the opportunity of no one being in the house to test his strength at walking. He’d been working endlessly on getting control of his arms again and could finally sit upright in the bed. He’d have to thank his relentless hatred of that idiot Uncle for the ‘inspiration’.

As far as the others knew, he was still a total invalid. The plan, now, was to find his way to any fire arm he could get his hands on.

Only when he was positive the others were outside, did Micah sit up and push himself right off the bed.

It was too ambitious a move and straight to the floor he went.

“OMPH…_dammit._”

Refusing to call it quits, Micah pushed up on his forearms and drug himself across the attic arm over arm. There wasn’t a weapon up here; he’d checked for one a few times already.

Downstairs was the best bet, but-

Micah popped his head over the edge of the attic entrance and looked down the long ladder to the first floor. This presented even more of a problem. He leered and voiced his thoughts aloud in short mumbles.

_“Down the ladder, to the bedroom-pistol in the side cupboard-“_

He’d gauged the location of John’s room accurately. Bastard was loud as fuck. About everything!

The outlaw forced himself into a sitting position and pushed his legs through the hatch, facing the ladder.

“_Sureeeeeee hope you’ve got the upper arm strength for this,”_

Micah hooked his feet on the fifth rung down and shimmied slowly forward to grab hold of the first rung. So far, so good. He shifted his weight down and his right leg slipped right off the rung. No problem.

He shifted again, and his weight forced his left leg to buckle and slip through the rung on the _other side _of the ladder.

This was a problem.

“Aughhhhh ok ok…….ok let me just-“

Micah hooked his right arm around the top rung and reached down with his left to desperately tug the stuck limb. He was getting no where fast with his legs tangled this way.

“Hahhh hhh.”

Fuck, he never realized how _heavy_ he was.

Outside, John was biting back tears as Abigail stated her vows.

Micah still had _plenty _of time to figure out whatever it was he was doing.

He pretzeled himself into the middle of the ladder before being forced to let go. The top half of his body dropped backwards, and his left leg snagged between the bars for a split second before he tumbled to the first floor.

“Aghk!!” Micah hissed at impact and was stunned for a moment.

As he lay in the hallway, he started to hear the alarming sound of shuffling and sniffing coming from the kitchen. Four busy paw pads were pattering around nearby, which escalated his anxiety straight to a ten before he even spotted the dog rounded the corner.

“_Oh no. Noo no no no non no no no-“_

His whispering hisses were not a deterrent for a bouncy Labrador. Rufus spotted him and instantly dashed over for a greeting.

_“Noooo no noooooo get the fuck away from meeeeee.”_

Micah shielded his face, but the slobbering licks were getting through anyway. He swung his arms to hit the animal, but Rufus misinterpreted his aggression as a play signal. The pup pounced upon his stomach and winded the hell out of him.

“OUFGHF-“

Rufus bounded off and came back for round two with another well-placed pounce.

“OUFH- Ohhhh I’ll- mpffhh- kill you first, you-,“

Micah wrestled the dog into a strangle hold but didn’t have the strength to break his neck. Rufus’ incessant wriggling around was making it impossible anyway.

After tousling on the floor for five agonizing minutes, Micah had to admit defeat. His efforts to maim or kill the beast were only providing entertainment for the playful pup.

Micah laid incredibly still with bitter scorn and hatred written on his expression as he waited for Rufus to grow bored.

The pup licked and licked and licked his face, repeatedly to no end. Rufus finally tired of it, but then immediately climbed on top of him to lay down.

The whole fiasco wasted a humiliating amount of time that should have been spent plotting the heinous murder of the family.

A cheer from outside set the dog off to investigate after a few minutes. Micah jerked his head in the direction of the sound and felt his heart rate spike. He had to get moving.

With haste, he flipped and drug himself to the master bedroom. The loose fitting _borrowed _shirt he was wearing kept snagging on the damn floor boards, but he at last reached the bedside table. Only to find the drawers empty of any fire arm.

“KHG dammit. _What is this???_”

He jerked up the bedspread to check under the mattress. Nothing! Beneath the bed? Still nothing.

Micah slammed the drawer closed and used precious energy to check the chest and the wardrobe.

No self-respecting gunslinger went without a _weapon_ at his bedside, yet all the typical hides were empty! He heard the front door open and some clamor before he could make it out and rushed to hide himself.

John entered the room not a second after he’d jerked himself beneath the bed. Micah grit his teeth to stave off gasping as he watched a pair of well-polished dress shoes cross the floor.

“Now I _know _I have more film. Y’all just…just HOLD on! Don’t anybody move an inch!! I see you trying to sneak off out there Sadie! Don’t even _think about it!_”

Marston loudly rattled through all the storage space. He found what he was looking for and dashed towards the door. Something made him hover in the doorway for a second. Micah held his breath again.

John left and he exhaled heavily.

The celebration moved inside shortly after and to his dismay, they did _not _seem to be leaving. There was laughter and general merriment all around. He decided he’d have to wait it out before he could start searching again.

Fifteen minutes of celebrating turned into an hour of celebrating. An hour turned into two hours.

Rufus eventually tired of the party and came to find him still hiding under the bed. He did his damnedest to ignore the dog as it settled into a half circle next to him and took a nap.

Micah kept hoping the party would move back outside or somewhere else altogether, but the day rolled on and the celebration continued without any indication of slowing down.

He took a deep breath and settled in.

Abigail was laughing louder and longer than he’d ever heard her do. Hell, he wasn’t sure he remembered her even _smiling. _Uncle was being loud and boisterous. John was clearly shoving celebratory cake all over his new wife whilst Uncle lamented the wasting of good, rare desserts.

The dog sighed next to Micah and he sighed in turn.

Another hour passed, and he could hear Sadie and Charles getting loud. Sadie wasn’t a surprise, but he’d _never _heard Charles so drunk before. This was good news, because Uncle was drunk before the wedding even started. Three out of three of the people who were supposed to be watching him were already inebriated. He just needed to wait them out.

Micah had exhausted himself and a rest would have been a good idea anyway. That is, if he _hadn’t _fallen asleep.

The outlaw awoke later to John’s loud, boisterous voice.

“Rufus, what the _hell _are you doing under the bed!? Jack, call your damn dog!”

Thinking he’d been found out, Micah instinctively jerked his arm for his guns which obviously were not there. Rufus jetted out from under the bed as the outlaw tried getting his bearings. It was dark now which escalated his panic.

He’d missed his opportunity and needed to get the hell out of here now!

Before he could even think about it, John strolled into the room.

“Come onnnn, comeee onn,” The former outlaw was standing in the doorway coaxing. He sounded a _bit _inebriated. “Theree she isss! Get down here.”

“Hold on now. I have to make sure they put the cake-“

The sound of Uncle singing very loudly came from the foyer, followed by a rather baritone voice that was Charles. They were having a great time, clearly.

“_What_? The damn cake can wait, woman.”

Abigail laughed. The bedroom door clapped closed. Micah felt this internal leap of adrenaline as he spotted their feet and tried to figure out what the hell to do.

“There she is. That dress is _killing me._”

“You haven’t even seen what’s under it, silly man.”

“Oh hohoh, I already _know _what’s unde- WOAHhh. Y-you. You _bought _that in a store?! Hot damn that is…..ohhhhhhhhhh that is. Get over here!”

“SHHhhh, keep it down.”

“They can’t hear a _thing _over that noise Uncle is making.”

They both laughed and braced together by the bed where they kissed repeatedly.

Micah rubbed his eyes and swore he felt his soul leaving his body.

The kisses turned into warm, breathy noises and low hums after several moments. John’s voice was far softer when he spoke again.

“You look beautiful……….Mrs. Marston.”

“Official. Mrs. Marston.”

“Officcialllll Mrs. Marston. Mmmmmmmmmm.”

Abigail leaned upon him and raised one foot. Micah mouthed ‘for the love of god’ and drug his hands down his face. He then jumped slightly at the heavy sound of them both dropping into the bed with more amorous noises.

There were _worse _positions to be in, he supposed. Only a matter of time before someone out there found him missing.

The romantic exchange on the bed was already heated before they touched the surface and urgency set up immediately in their voices. Micah kept his hand pinched just below his head wound as the urgency turned to noisy heavy petting.

“H-h-hold the thought-“ John half hissed. He stood up and dropped his dress pants.

His belt hit the floor with a distinct CLANK and Micah’s head flipped.

_There! _The revolver!

More articles of clothing followed piece by piece before John pounced back into bed.

Micah bit his tongue and scooted towards the edge of the bed towards the belt. John was getting audibly pissed off at the wedding dress and accessories, which he clearly couldn’t navigate his way around even if he wasn’t drunk and painfully aroused.

“What the-..HELL is this……..contraption-“

“J-j-just pull the thing-“

“_W-what thing-??!“_

“Please, John, don’ttttttt hhh.hhh.. screw this up.”

“I a-ah h..Ain’t tryin to- but you’re damn bodice is like a bear trap.”

Micah stretched his arm out from under the bed and _reached _for the weapon. His fingers brushed against it and he stiffened up at a sudden loud moan from Abigail. John had definitely found his way around the problem, whatever it was.

Bracing again, Micah jerked to the side just enough and grabbed the weapon.

He felt a massive head rush as he jerked it beneath the bed with him. YES. Yes yes yes yesssssssssssssss!!

He stopped mentally celebrating as the newlyweds rocked together on the bed above. They were _noisy, _and the audible picture painted was far too _vivid. _John was needlessly expressing every little movement with groans and moans that far drowned out Abigail’s gasps and hums.

Micah clenched his eyes closed and felt sweat trailing down the side of his brow. His heart was pounding in rhythm with their synced gestures.

This was either the new lowest moment or the absolute best-case scenario.

The outlaw pushed the revolver to the bottom of the bed and lined up with their bodies. He felt that blood roaring through his veins and that deep seated, cathartic malice at the prospect of destroying this moment with a single blow.

His hands were quivering with the weak connection. He had trouble keeping his arms in this position but even with this head wound, he couldn’t _miss. _

John moaned out very loudly suddenly and Abigail followed immediately with a sharp outcry of her own.

Micah clicked the safety off and pulled back the hammer. The sound was drowned out in their minds.

“Ohhhhhhhh I loveyouIloveyouIloveyou-,” John’s amorous murmurs splintered off his moaning and kept going as their movement settled down.

Soon they were just gasping heavily.

Micah’s hands shook. He clenched his jaw and screamed internally.

That monstrous blood lust needed sating!!! Dozens of faces flashed before his mind. Men, women, children, innocents. Innocents with the life draining from their eyes as his power over them filled him with unspeakable catharsis. Nothing could give him greater pleasure than going out with this horrific act-

The newlyweds were half dozing.

Abigail murmured something that ended with “-happiest day of my life.”

Micah quivered, and his arms sank.

He couldn’t do it.


End file.
